


Six Incredibly Unlikely Sex Scenes from Fargo

by Vituperative_cupcakes



Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: Anal Sex, Cunnilingus, Everyone/Everyone - Freeform, F/M, Frottage, M/M, Oral Sex, random pornerifics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 14:14:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1747547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vituperative_cupcakes/pseuds/Vituperative_cupcakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>exactly what it says on the tin</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Incredibly Unlikely Sex Scenes from Fargo

**Author's Note:**

> Well, since the last episode's canon has blown several of my ships to fleshy chunks(and confirmed one, YAY) have a series of disjointed sex scenes to celebrate.

The Insurance Salesman and the Hitman.

Lester shivered as he turned over and got on his hands and knees. He'd had sex before, but he'd never felt so naked. Exposed. He liked it a little.

Rough hands gripped his haunches and he started, letting out a little shout.

“Easy!”

A finger prodded his left cheek. Lester, who had never in a million years attempted this sort of thing, was unsure how to react. He dropped down to his elbows, exposing himself even more.

The prodding ceased and his left cheek was slapped. Though Lester was intimidated by his lover, he could not stifle his reaction and fell to his side. This shift in perspective revealed that his lover, while Lester was clumsily getting into position, had stripped off his fringe jacket. And everything else.

Lester forced himself to make eye contact. Was _that_ why they called him Wrench?

The man he knew only as Wrench stared at him impatiently. Lester tried to make himself as harmless-looking as possible. He didn't know the man that well yet, doubted he ever would, and he didn't want to set him off.

Wrench signed,  _not like that_ .

Lester swallowed. “I thought you wanted...” he was unsure how to word it. Having a deaf cousin had led him to study a little ASL, but the thing he wanted probably wasn't in  _Signing for Dummies_

Wrench shook his head.  _I do. Not like that._

Lester said clearly and distinctly, “what do you want?”

Wrench pointed at him.

“I don't get it.”

Wrench pointed two fingers at his eyes, then at Lester’s.

“...I still don't follow you.”

Wrench sighed and rolled his eyes skyward.

_Face me,_ he signed.

Lester licked his lips. He was suddenly very unsteady.

“You want...oh, geez.” He smiled as charmingly as he could and shook his head slightly. “I don't think I...”

Wrench took Lester's face in both hands and made him make eye contact.

_Want you_ he mouthed.

Lester was suddenly flush hard against Wrench's thigh. He tried to shift away, embarrassed, but Wrench followed him.

“Oh geez,” he said again.

Wrench was staring at him. The stare could have melted metal. Lester swallowed a few times.

“How are we...” Wrench was still staring. “I don’t...I’ve never...” Wrench was still staring. “How am I supposed to...”

The simple act of a man staring should not be this arousing. All of the most erotic gestures Lester could think of had something to do with touching. But Wrench's stare made a heat in his belly that was rapidly spreading down his thighs.

Wrench, very slowly and deliberately, lowered his face to Lester's and placed a kiss on his lips. Lester kissed back hungrily. He couldn't pinpoint the exact time he stopped thinking and started acting, but he could only decide that it was an improvement.. Wrench kissed surprisingly tenderly, petting Lester's face and hair. Lester, in turn, ground his hips wantonly against the large man. He had no idea what sex between them would be like, but he was ready for anything.

Wrench freed a hand from his cheek and took both of their cocks in hand, his nearly dwarfing Lester's. Lester's breath came out in one big gasp as if he'd been hit in the stomach. Wrench grinned at his expression.

Lester stopped doing anything at all, anything besides writhing shamelessly to the pressure of Wrench's hand. He could no longer speak, just stutter a long line of meaningless syllables that were almost words but not really. Wrench gripped his chin and pulled their faces parallel. He repeated his two-finger point, first at his own eyes, then at Lester's. Lester finally got it. He gripped the larger man's buttocks and stared intensely into Wrench's eyes, biting his lip and rocking against him. Wrench's gave a half-smile and his hands went faster. This is how they looked when they finally came, the larger man perched atop the smaller, hands blurring with motion between them, eyes locked in a dead stare.

Lester came first. He had suspected he would. Wrench came immediately after, as if the sight was too much. He heaved forward, pressing his face into the pillow beyond Lester's shoulder, his entire body draped over the smaller man. Lester panted and felt like he should be steaming. He pressed his cheek into the hollow crook where Wrench's neck met his shoulder and tried to calm his heartbeat. By the feel of it, Wrench did the same.

Wrench reared up suddenly, rising to his elbows, and began touching Lester's face. Not quite long enough to be caresses, it was like he was trying to paint in his facial features. Lester smiled.

“Very good,” he said, “but next time...my way?” He formed a circle with his left hand and drove his right index finger in and out of it. Wrench rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

_Okay_ , he signed,  _have it your way_ .

 

Helping hand

Molly had said to check out the widow Hess. She hadn't said anything about the crying, drinking, or violent outbursts. Gus rubbed her back soothingly as she sobbed loudly into a pillow, smearing her eyeliner.

“M–Miss, I mean, Mrs. Hess, I mean Gina, please calm down.”

“How can you tell a grieving woman to calm DOWN,” she cried, throwing a pillow at him.

Gus put his hands out, to steady her, only to steady her, and instead of finding purchase on her shoulder like he'd meant to, he cupped...

Gina looked down at his hands, then up at his face. He winced. Her expression was somewhere between fury and curiosity.

She seemed like a nice lady, really she did. She was just in grief, is all. She'd been played by Nygaard, lost her husband, she had every right to be upset as he held onto her breasts out of sheer terror.

Breasts of this size had been boobies to he and his friends in teenagerdom. It was the only way they could think of to describe something so awe-inspiring that you could only babble baby words as their owners bore them past your vision. This one's owner didn't seem too mad anymore. She hadn't hit his hands away yet. She'd taken off her fur hat(which had looked kind of ridiculous, now that he thought of it) but left on her coat, which meant he was gripping half fur, half warm, bare skin.

Gus realized he hadn't spoke for a while so he said, “um, these are real nice Ms–um–Gina. It's okay, I'll get to the bottom of this.” or words to that effect.

Gina gave him a slightly calculating but warm smile. “You're so... _sweet_.”

Gus flushed and grinned. “It's...it's what we do, ma'am.” Actually, he really hoped that no other police did this as a matter of procedure. It was highly illegal and just darn rude.

Gina took hold of his tie, twiddling it in her fingers. “You're a real sweet guy.” Her pretty face twisted suddenly. “That Lester guy, he pretended to be nice. You're sayin' he took out my Sam?”

“Th–th–that's what we think.” he tried to emphasize the _we_ , hoping she would read that as _me and that really nice officer lady who I could really possibly have a thing with if I don't screw it up_.

Gina smiled, a little crookedly. “You're real sharp. Hey, _and_ cute.”

Gus scoffed.

Gina's smile went a little sad. “Sam was never cute like you. I thought that Lester guy was gonna help me. He was just so...”

Her lip was wobbling. Gus tried to head off another crying jag.

“Well, that was _them_. This is Gus Grimly you're dealing with, ma'am, and– _oofta.”_

Gina's hand had found something interesting to do, too. She gave him that coy grin.

“You're nice,” she said, extracting him from his jeans. Gus hissed an intake of breath.

“ _Ohjeez.”_ he gripped the couch cushions. Gina gave him one last wink before she dove lips-first onto his erection. Gus was not prepared for the sudden, warm, wet contraction. His feet slid away from the couch so that his lap fell bonelessly open to her. Gina moved with the deftness and efficiency of a surgeon, a little tongue here, a little mouthing there. Boy, she sure was appreciative. Gus really didn't get how that Nygaard fella could forsake help like this. But then again, Nygaard had taken a hit out on her husband, so he probably wasn't the most appreciative fella around.

Gina popped up, wiping her mouth. Gus stifled a puppy whine.

“Hey,” she said, “I noticed you admiring the twins earlier.”

They were, Gus thought, very admirable. Gina unsheathed them now, like a pair of ornamental chalices. The holy grail of breasts.

“Oofta,” Gus said appreciatively.

Gina smiled. “Knew you'd like this.”

With her immaculately manicured nails, she pressed breast flesh on either side of his erection. Gus yelped as she gripped him with her body, moving up and down slowly but building in speed like a steam piston. The combination of sensation, sound, and Gina's enthusiastic visage drove him over the edge. He tried to warn her, shout, but it happened so suddenly. Some of it went in her hair, some on her chin. As he watched, she dipped a finger in his come and, still smiling, sucked it clean.

“Lester Nygaard is a dead man,” he said.

Gina smiled.

 

 

Bath

Don Chumph was not the brightest bulb in the warehouse, but he was bright enough to realize that when he woke up naked and couldn't move, it was not a good sign. This was only cemented by the appearance of his blackmail partner from around the corner of the room.

“You know your towel rack can't really hold a lot of weight?”

Don was under the impression that if he started screaming, Malvo might react poorly. The man was a bit of an enigma. Besides, he found, there was duct tape on his mouth.

Malvo edged closer, smiling that strange smile of his. “Finally found a way to stop you asking stupid questions.”

Don risked an  _mmph_ . It barely made it beyond his gag, but Lorne cocked his head as if he'd heard it anyway.

“You know what a Turkish bath is?” he asked poignantly.

Don finally had a reaction he could easily express: he shook his head. Truth be told, it sounded very romantic and European, which the ladies around here really went for. In fact, the lotion scent he had to replace most frequently was called “Tuscan Vanilla” even though the manufacturing facility was in Texas the ladies thought it smelled exotic enough—

“Well, I knew the answer to that going in.” Malvo sat on the corner of the bed, leading Don to realize he'd been duct taped to all four posts. “You've never been to a traditional Turkish bath. I have. Know the most glaring detail, the slap-you-in-the-face landmark of these places?”

Don shook his head.

Malvo smiled. “No women,” he said.

Don blinked.

“No. None at all. At least...not as customers.”

He threw something on the bed. Don realized it was his cotton-bamboo blend towels, which he'd bought a while ago because he'd heard they were the new thing and they were soft even though they didn't dry him as well as the all-cotton towels and left him kind of linty—

“See, even now, I can tell you got that brain of yours running a mile a minute.” Lorne touched his temple. “This was a good idea. Stops you from wasting time on chatter.”

Don  _mmphed_ again.

“First off, it's not really a bath. You could call it a spa of sorts, but that would be a stretch.” Lorne slung a towel over his shoulder. “Towels are employed, of course. But–” he bent down “they're not drying anything off.”

Don kept perfectly still. Even moreso than normal, he could not tell what Malvo was after.

Malvo smiled. “You've stopped thinking so much. That's good.” he hefted one leg over Don and remained upright on his knees over don. “See, 'spa' is just a cover. They know what goes on in there. You ever heard of a rub 'n tug?”

Don hadn’t really, but it sounded like a massage although he wasn't really up on his massage techniques which was bad because the place would be opening as soon as they got the money and he would have to—

Lorne deftly wrapped one end of the towel around Don's flaccid penis.

“I could tell,” he said, “you were thinking again.”

Well, he certainly wasn't now. Don had flinched at the initial contact, but now he realized that the towel was not wrapped painfully tight around him, just snug. Actually it was kind of nice. Actually—

“You're beginning to see where I'm going with this?”

Don nodded cautiously. Lorne nodded back. His hand started moving automatically, and suddenly Don realized it felt like he was being jerked off by a machine. A warm, pliable machine with interesting texture, but one that didn't seem to care if it was going too fast for him. Don didn't know why he found that so appealing, but he went suddenly taut against his bonds as Lorne's hand pumped endlessly. Lorne seemed detached, even bored. That set Don off even more. He wanted to move his hips, but there was not enough slack for that. He had to settle for moaning low in his throat and thrashing as much as the tape would let him. When he ejaculated, it was neatly muted by the towel's fabric. Lorne gingerly unwrapped the towel as Don came down, peeling off the black gloves he wore nearly perpetually.

Malvo bent down and peeled the duct tape from Don's mouth. It stung, but it was good.

“Do I have your full cooperation?” he asked.

Don groaned.

 

 

“I’ll come to you”

It had become their way, their...ritual. Gus often woke at night to ponder the case. Moll was all the way over in Bemidji, where he couldn't comfort her, or have her comfort him. Some nights Greta would stay over with friends. Some nights there was a light on across the way. Sometimes there was a glass of milk and a sympathetic ear waiting.

“I'll come to you.”

They both said it. It would have been rude not to reciprocate. But it went deeper than that, Gus realized. For each man to entertain every single time would have been unfair. Everyone needs a break from their carpets and chairs, the same walls they come home to every day.

Ari's apartment was quite comfortably stark compared to Gus's own. While the Ziskind residence was still resplendent with toys and other family clutter, there was a comforting somberness to the décor.

Besides, nothing threw Gus out of the mood faster that spotting one of Greta’s socks in the hall, or his wife's sewing thread he still hadn't had the heart to throw away.

Tonight he lay on the bed Ari shared with his wife, receiving Ari's attention. Bot men were new at this, but eager to learn and unfailingly gentle. Ari took Gus in his mouth, sucking experimentally soft, then harder as Gus gave vocal approval. He tapped Ari's shoulder after a few minutes, and they quickly switched positions. It gave Gus a moment of odd pause every time, realizing that of course Ari was circumcised. He slurped the head and worked the shaft with his right hand as his neighbor groaned fitfully into his pillows.

Ari rolled over to his back and Gus tucked a pillow beneath his hips. Gus always brought the lube, no matter whose house it was, no matter who was topping that night. He squirted a more-than-generous amount, slopping it everywhere and cursing softly. Ari, viewing him with chin in hand, smiled lazily. Gus used his still-slippery hand to work Ari's cock as he very carefully positioned himself. It always seemed like he took ages to get in all the way, while Ari seemed to slip in all too soon. Gus liked prolonging the sweet burn, the aching stretch of their lovemaking. He kissed along his spine and whispered reassuring things into Ari's ear as he filled him. Ari groaned and wiggled his hips, urging Gus deeper.

They were always gentle and steady, no matter who was penetrating whom. It wasn't about domination. Gus kept up a wild, jagged rhythm between his cock and his hand, making Ari shout into the pillows.

Gus came first, but only slowed the pace of his thrusts, easing Ari into orgasm. He came shortly after, squirting and gasping into the sheets. They smiled and shared a kiss.

Their friendship was based on reciprocation.

 

Common ground

Molly fidgeted with her bra clasp. “I dunno. Guess I’m kinda nervous. I don't really do this kinda thing. I mean, I don't _know_ you.”

Numbers smiled. Molly couldn't decide whether that smile was warm and endearing or made her want to slap him. _A bit of both_ , she thought.

“You know me,” he said, “we've met. At the insurance office. And we got a common goal.”

“I _know_ , but still.” she finally unclasped her bra. Numbers took an appreciative breath. “It's all new.”

“Aw come on. You've been in a motel before.”

She swatted him for that. Numbers dodged gracefully, spinning as he undid his belt and started his pants down his hips. She found the gesture both boyish and erotic. Numbers was a man of dualities, it seemed.

One thing still niggled at her. “What about your... _partner_. That guy.”

Numbers snorted. “We're not attached at the hip, you know.”

“No reason,” she said, “only, he's a big fella. If he wanted to make things bad for me, I bet he could, really easy.”

Numbers pondered this for a moment. “Fair enough,” he conceded.

He opened his shirt. How had it taken her this long to notice he had tattoos? He caught her looking and smiled.

“Got more on my arm,” he said. Hebrew encircled his bicep. There was also a little anchor on his left shoulder blade. She kissed them all. He in turn kissed both of her breasts, gently and lightly and hummingbird-fast. He took her lower back in both hands and kneaded the flesh in both hands, undoing knots she hadn't even known were there. She tugged on his beard when she kissed him, a gesture he seemed to find cute. Her underwear couldn't come off fast enough, it was Target bikini-briefs with an embarrassing polka-dot pattern that she balled up and threw in the corner as soon as she could.

Numbers was already down to skin.

“You go commando in this weather?”

He shrugged. “I'm a tough guy.”

“So's my dad, but even he wears long johns.”

He rolled his eyes. “You normally talk about your dad right before you get it on?”

“Oh yeah.” she grinned. “Every time I meet a stranger in a motel for sex.”

He took her face in his hands. “I told you,” he murmured,” kissing her eyebrow, “I'm not a stranger.”

“But I don't really know you all that well.”

He pondered her forehead.

“You know enough.”

She conceded.

He kneaded the warm flesh of her breasts now. She responded by running her nails along the ridge of his spine, it made him suck in breath and lightly teethe on a nipple. The hand not occupied with aiming her breast at his mouth crept downwards, and Molly's knees buckled a little as she found out how calloused his fingertips were. She went lower with her ministrations, lightly scraping his buttocks and the bone of his hip. Doing this slid his head up to the crook of her neck, where he continued to use his tongue and lips in the most infuriatingly gentle fashion. She took his mouth forcefully, squeezing his ass in both hands, accidentally kneeing his thigh. He pulled away.

“Ow, watch it! I get enough of that from...” he trailed off, looking at her. She smiled.

“I'll be gentle.”

He growled playfully and pulled her onto his lap. He was already hard, and she was so wet it was beginning to gather on her outer lips. He took his time getting the head in, watching her face and every contortion on it. He was pretty decently sized, and it had been a while since Molly had been with someone, so they made a snug fit Once the head crossed the threshold, though, she took control and sank down of her own accord, making Numbers yowl in his throat.

“ _Damn_ , woman.”

She laughed and tossed her hair back.

He let her do most of the work, mostly just moving his hips in time with her thrusts. Normally Molly would have felt self conscious of her flushed face, whether her body was arranged decorously during sex. Breaking the rules helped her get to a place of freedom. She watched Numbers' face and he watched hers, smiling, each waiting for the other to break. Numbers suddenly reached out and took hold of her hips, changing the angle that he thrust into her. Molly writhed as he slid through the valley of her labia. _That wasn't fair_.

She clamped down internally, smiling as Numbers yelped at the sudden pressure. _Bet ya didn't know I could do that, did you smart guy?_

Numbers had clenched his eyes shut, now he opened them and locked his stare intensely on her face. Molly was afraid he was angry when he suddenly took her head and brought it down to his. He held their heads stationary, kissing her as he thrust into her at a dizzy pace. She tried to keep control over her body, squeezing him as best she could, fighting a losing battle. Numbers, for his part, did not seem like he would last long either. They raced each other, only it was a race to see who could drag their feet, who could endure to the end.

It was a photo finish.

 

And the winner for “least likely sex scene in Fargo ever” is...

 

Malvo lit a camel. “Thought you had to be somewhere.”

“Thought I told you to keep your sweet mouth shut.”

He chuckled. “Not til I get feeling back in my lower body.”

“Is that a crack about my weight?” Malvo's nipple was tweaked.

“No, baby. I know you've got a problem with it.”

“Damn straight.” Ida rolled off the bed and scratched the small overhang of her belly. A crude gesture, but one that only excited Malvo further.

“You still up for it? C'mere.”

Ida rolled her head, neck popping. “Put that out first, I don't wanna go home with my southern states smelling like a bar.”

Malvo placed the butt on a nearby coaster and held his hands up and open. Ida smiled.

“That's my boy.”

She climbed astride him on the bed, while he slid down to put his face parallel with her vulva. She was in pretty good shape, all things considered. Malvo wasted no time in getting down to business, running the tip of his tongue up and down the spread pages of her labia, while she moaned and rocked above. Truth be told he really wanted more, but was beyond the prospect of getting hard at this point. Ida really wore a man out. Must be all that Viking blood.

He nuzzled her clitoris with his lips, dipping down to suck one dewey petal, then up again, then to the next one, in a holy trinity of head. Ida bucked her hips shamelessly into his face, twisting a nipple with one hand and knotting the other into his hair. Lorne loved watching the contractions of her stomach muscles as she knelt above him, the savage animal emotions crossing her face.

Malvo curled a finger, just one, inside her and rubbed her g-spot. That was it. Ida threw her head back and howled the loudest curse he had ever heard, keeping his head clamped to her nethers with one hand. He reminded himself to wash his face later.

Ida rolled off of him and held a hand up. He put a cigarette in it and lit it for her. She took an appreciative puff.

“Damn, you're better than that vanilla asshole any day of the week.”

“Who, your husband?” Malvo rolled to his side and propped his head up on a hand. “Is that why you wanted him gone?”

“Naw. 'Cause he moved me here and got me pregnant. You know the six-pack I used to have? All gone to shit. Plus, you've never known hell until you've been pregnant in winter.”

“I think I'll put off that circle of hell if you don't mind.” Malvo perked his ears up. “What's that sound?”

“Sirens.”

“Oh.”

“For you.”

Malvo jumped up from the bed, stark naked. “WHAT?”

“I called them an hour ago. That dumbass Bill was at lunch, so I figured they'd be along about now.”

Malvo was actually speechless. “But no, you...I...I'm usually the one that does shit like this.”

“Sorry to steal your thunder, cowboy.”

Malvo could not stop gaping. “But... I killed your husband for you.”

Ida blew a triumphant plume of smoke. “Come on baby, you knew what this was.”

 


End file.
